


Raise the Dead

by theleaveswant



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Booty Calls, Episode Related, In fact a refutation of suspected necrophilia, M/M, Necrophilia, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn Battle, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 10:01:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theleaveswant/pseuds/theleaveswant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Colin puts Felix's worries about his predilections to bed (and then some). Refers to events in s1e05 "Conditions of Existence".</p><p>Written for Porn Battle XV (The Ides of Porn). Prompts "corpses", "morbid".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Raise the Dead

So Colin is on his way over again and Felix is unexpectedly nervous.

Everything went well last time, or so Felix had thought at the time, but that crack at the door had left him wondering. 

It was a joke, he knows, it _had_ to have been a joke, but what if underneath the joke there was a kernel of truth? Some kind of a slantwise hint?

Felix spends far too much time arranging and rearranging the mess in his apartment, and is caught entirely off-guard by the knock on the door.

“Knock knock,” Colin says when Felix doesn’t let him in straightaway, too busy standing frozen on the far side of the coffee table.

“Sorry!” Felix calls, shaking himself out of his paralysis and moving to yank the screwdriver he'd used to bolt the door since he'd lost the key for the padlock. “Sorry about that. I, erm. Couldn’t hear you.”

It’s a terrible lie—the old building’s bare brick walls and rusty plumbing do a magnificent job of bouncing sound around and make acoustic privacy a truly laughable concept—but if Colin notices he doesn’t care. “That’s no problem,” he says, nuzzling lightly at Felix’s face before he crosses the threshold into the apartment. “Thanks for the invitation.”

“You’re—mm!—welcome,” Felix replies, grinning charmedly over Colin’s interrupting kiss, and allows Colin to back him another step into the apartment. Another quick kiss and another step backward, then another, kiss-step, kiss-step, until Felix is crawling backward over the arm of his deliberately hideous couch with Colin on top of him. 

After a few minutes of cheerful snogging Felix has almost forgotten his earlier apprehension . . . at least until Colin starts tugging on his belt. “Wait,” Felix says, pulling away. “Is—do you—is there something that you . . . want?”

Colin’s forehead crinkles. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, do you want me to stay really still, or . . . something.”

“What?” The crinkles deepen, then smooth away when Colin’s eyes widen in understanding. “Ah. No. I don’t want you to stay really still or something.”

“Really?” Felix bites his lip. “Because last time—”

“Really.” Colin uses the back of the couch to lever himself into a sitting position, allowing Felix to adjust his legs so that they’re sitting side-by-side. “Death is . . . _fascinating_ , but it’s not—I don’t actually ‘do things’ with the bodies, all right? And I don’t want to.”

“ _Really?_ ” Felix asks again, his eyes drawn into a squint.

“Really really. Even setting aside the fact that that would be grossly unethical and rude to the people who survive them . . . Dead things don’t really _do_ anything except lie there, being dead. Sometimes they ooze things. If I was into that I would buy a creepily realistic doll to have sex with. I’m not.”

Felix chews the inside of his lip some more, sighing uncomfortably. 

Colin watches him silently, and after a moment he flashes a crooked smile. “See that?” he says, reaching to brush a thumb down Felix’s cheek. “Dead people don’t do that.”

Felix smiles in spite of himself. “No, I suppose they don’t.”

“And they don’t do this.” Colin picks up Felix’s arm and traces his fingertips over the sensitive skin of his wrist and palm. It tickles, and Felix squirms, more so when Colin raises the arm closer to his lips and blows across it, raising gooseflesh. “And they don’t . . .”

Felix meets him when he tilts his head up for a kiss, allows him to roll him back down onto the couch, spreads his legs so Colin can press a thigh between them and grind up against him. He gasps when Colin moves to kiss and bite at the side of his neck and arches up off the couch when he works a hand between their bodies to caress Felix’s erection through his trousers. 

“Hm, and they definitely don’t do that.”

“Christ.” Felix moans and struggles up off the couch, all thoughts of toe tags and viewing rooms and cold metal slabs flushed from his brain to make way for heat, heat and teeth, tongue, hands tugging at obstinate clothing as they stumble from the couch to the bed, and then it’s condoms, lube, more tongues, Felix turning over on his back, shoulders on the bed and hips in the air, and _fuck_. Felix slams his fist into the mattress and Colin slams his cock into Felix.

“Come on,” Colin pants. “Give it to me, Felix. Show it to me.”

Felix hollers loud enough he thinks he might shake the roof down, his feet scrabbling for purchase on the slippery sheets. Colin twists his hand around Felix’s cock like this and pushes into him like that, at the same time or close enough for it to light up all of Felix’s buttons and he’s coming, moaning and gasping for air, and Colin isn’t far behind.

“Well,” Felix says when they’ve collapsed next to each other on the tangled sheet, when he’s remembered that words exist. “That was, er. Well done.”

“Thank you,” Colin says, not quite wheezes, he’s out of breath but not that bad. “Couldn’t have done it by myself.”

“I guess not.” Felix laughs and feels the tickling premonition of a yawn. “Please forgive me if I pass out for a little while.”

Colin’s eyes snap open at that and he pushes up on one elbow, looking over at Felix with a predatory glint. “Sleepy people, on the other hand . . .”


End file.
